


Just Another Winter

by fridgehorror



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 01:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgehorror/pseuds/fridgehorror
Summary: Willow always gets sick, so Wigfrid's always prepared to help.





	Just Another Winter

Snow drifted on above, Wigfrid watched as it curled and tumbled down in waves. She sat outside her & Willow's shared tent, sharpening her spear against a piece of flint. Winter had been unfair thus far, although Wigfrid knew of her companions distaste for the frigid. It was almost guaranteed for the firestarter to fall ill at some point in the season. Wigfrid eyed the crockpot, waiting for the stew she had made to finish. She didn't have the supplies for soup, and besides, a thick stew always helped when she was sick. 

Life stirred from behind her, a quiet groan sounding from the other woman. The warrior shifted, turning to see her companion slowly awakening. She set her spear down, along with the flint, proceeding to crawl into the tent. Willow coughed, abruptly into her fist, wheezing. 

"Öh, yöu are awake." She says softly, crossing her legs as she sat beside her. "Höw are yöu feeling?"

Willow gave her a squinty stare, before rolling over onto her back and wheezing. "Like Deerclops stepped on my chest and won't leave. Other than that, I'm pretty good." Her voice cracks, and she laughs but it trails off into another bout of coughing. 

"Ah... I see. I am making yöu a stew, if yöu are hungry." Wigfrid states, gently pressing a hand to Willow's forehead. Fever. That wasn't any good. 

"'M starving." She grumbles quietly, pulling her blanket closer to her, visibly shaking. "Thanks, 'Frid." 

"It is what I am here tö dö." She murmurs, watching the unsteady rise and fall of Willow's chest. Quietly sighing, Wigfrid took Willow's hand in hers. "Yöu are very brave thröugh this every year." She says, smiling down at her. 

"Don't have-" A cough. "Don't. Have much to fear."

"I stand by what I said. Sickness is a dastardly fiend, and yöu fight it alone." 

"Not fightin' anything alone with you here." She grins up at her, goofy and very Willow like. Ah, Willow. She shakes her head, smiling herself, releasing her hand. Wigfrid smooths Willow's bangs out of her face, before placing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

"That is gööd to hear. I am glad I am a cömfört tö yöu in yöur time öf need. I am göing tö check ön yöur stew. I will be back." Wigfrid got up from her current position, and made her way from the tent. 

"No-o." 

Wigfrid turned her head, confused. The firestarter whined, her hands waving in the air, clasping like a crabs pinchers. A snort escaped the performer, giving her a short wave before crawling onto the snow covered ground. Her bare feet didn't comply with the frost, so last winter she fashioned a pair of woolen boots to protect them. They were quite a help, if she was honest. Wigfrid made her way past the fire pit, finding the log pile beside it and tossing one in to keep it going. Days were short, evenings were long and nights were longer. The light and warmth was almost necessary. Now that was tended to, she made her way to the trio of crockpots. One still wavered with heat, letting off a warm smell that was welcomed openly. Wigfrid scooped up a bowl full, then a second. Skillfully, she brought both bowls back to the tent, scooting the flaps open with her foot. Ducking her head under the flaps, Wigfrid made her way back under the cover. The smell of the stew seemed to bring a little life back into Willow, as she sat up, and made grabby hands at the food. 

Wigfrid set the second serving off to the side, and placed the bowl into Willow's restless hands. "It's höt, höw it shöuld be. It shöuld help with the cöugh." 

The other woman was already slurping down the broth of the stew, bowl to her lips. Wigfrid sat silently, listening to the blowing wind rustling the tent behind her back. The snow must of been picking up. Her hands absentmindly fiddle with the fur of her boots, stroking the soft material between two fingers. A quiet hum came from the woman as she sat with her companion, not a word spoken between the both of them. None were needed, Willow didn't feel well and Wigfrid was beginning to tire for the day. The silence was quite nice. Besides the sound of slurping. That was present. The warrior rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand, yawning. Willow sneezed, quickly pinching her nose to prevent getting mucus everywhere. A hum of discontent sounded from Wigfrid as she offered a piece of stray cloth to sneeze into. She took it graciously and blew her nose.

"Blegh." She offhandedly set the cloth aside to continue eating. 

"If yöu wöuld like möre-" Wigfrid gestured to the second serving beside her. "Yöu will need the extra strength."

"Mm." Willow hummed as she pulled her lips from the bowl, and looked up at her. "You should eat that."

"Are yöu sure?" Wigfrid's own stomach betrayed her, growling at just the wrong time. She would have to go on another hunt soon to replenish their food supply. 

Willow jabbed her lightly with her elbow, setting her bowl in her lap. "Uh, yeah. Do you-" She coughs into her fist, wincing. The firestarter looked up with one eye shut. "...Do you hear your stomach?"

"I dö but- truly I can höld öff. A true warrior s-"

"I don't care what a true warrior does. A true warrior doesn't die of somethin' silly like starvation." Willow, bowl in hand scooted closer to Wigfrid and scooped up the second bowl, placing it in her lap. "Eat up."

"If yöu're sure-" 

"Wigfrid eat the dang stew."

There's a defeated sigh as Wigfrid picked up the bowl from her lap, the warmth in her hands giving her goosebumps. Taking drink of the stew, she's immediately met with a few chunks of meat of which she gobbled up graciously. Willow leaned against her, nestling into the warriors shoulder. The two sat in silence, finishing off their food with full bellies. Content and warm, Willow laid her head against Wigfrid's thigh, shutting her eyes. The blanket hung loose around her, to which Wigfrid pulled it up over the firestarter's shoulders. She awkwardly stretched for the bear sitting adjacent to her, tucking him in Willow's arms. 

"Mm. Thanks, Wigfrid." She mumbled, tucking her head against Bernie's. 

"Öf cöurse." She softly grinned, running her fingers through her dark, tangled hair. "Sleep well, Willöw." 

"G'night, 'Frid."


End file.
